between the static and the silence
by ImagineYourself64
Summary: When he fell, he barely felt it. He wasn't in Heaven, but all of a sudden there was something pushing him, a tiny hand pressing down on his weakened grace that tethered him to the earth like a child hanging on his leg. - Gabriel winked. "They don't call me the Trickster for nothing." - One of the downsides to being human is that you sleep, and when you sleep, you dream.


A/N: I have no idea what this is but have at it because I can't write anything worth spit right now but I managed to spew this out.

* * *

When he fell, he barely felt it. He wasn't in Heaven, but all of a sudden there was something pushing him, a tiny hand pressing down on his weakened grace that tethered him to the earth like a child hanging on his leg.

"Huh," he whispered, the word leaving him as more of a sigh than a sentence. No one thought twice about the sound, too busy caught up in themselves as they passed him along the sidewalks. It was barely morning, but Paris was alive, the lights on the Eiffel tower slowly twinkling out in the corner of his vision. Men and women walked past the little outdoor café where he was sitting, his hands wrapped around a porcelain mug half-full of tepid hot cocoa.

He stood, placed a few coins on the table, and exited through the side gate back onto the street. A small child, no older than a year, was being cradled in a pudgy woman's hands. The child smiled at him as he passed by, young eyes meeting very, very old ones. The angel smiled back, the tip of his wing flicking in a sort of wave. The baby squealed gleefully, sunlight shining in the golden hue of the feathers.

Suddenly, with the sound of wings arcing through the air, the angel was gone. Not one person on the streets of France noticed.

. . . . .

The world passed him by infinitely fast and slow at the same time. The stretch and burn of the muscles the he hadn't used much in years felt good. Felt _right_. It was over too soon, and he found himself landing on an empty street somewhere, a familiar black car heading out of sight, roaring fast over the asphalt away from him. His feathers rattled, whistling through the air as he took off again.

. . . . .

He searched for what felt like seconds, but might have been days for how differently time was passing him. He wasn't used to it. It was… familiar in a way, something he had known before, but not for the past few, very human, years. Trees flew by like smudges of pastel on the canvas of an artist. Mountains were insignificant bridges that he jumped over like the brick dividers between houses in the suburbs. After a few more seconds—days—he stopped.

. . . . .

He looked around in confusion as he touched down in an almost-alleyway in God-knows-where U.S.A. It was dark, deep into the night, and there was a laundromat beside him. A lone man stood outside the door, looking lost in the yellow lighting that filtered out through the windows and caught in his dark hair.

The angel drew near, standing a few yards outside the man's field of vision. "Hey little bro," he said softly. A laugh almost tore out of his throat at the startled turn of the man before him.

"Gabriel?" The name was whispered, not with reverence, but with shock.

"Good, you still remember me!" The angel did laugh then, a hearty sound leaving his mouth as he moved to clap a hand on his brother's arm.

"Gabriel, how are you here? You died when Lucifer…"

Gabriel winked. "They don't call me the Trickster for nothing."

"How did you find me?" The human's eyes were wide, the blue almost black in the dim lights of night.

"I have my ways. Namely keeping tabs on you as much as I could."

"Then you know what happened?"

The archangel gave him a sympathetic smile and his hand squeezed the flesh of his brother's arm. "Yeah, Cas, I know." Something seemed to break in the former angel's eyes. "Hey, look, it's not your fault bro!" Gabriel seemed to plead.

"Where were you?" Castiel suddenly asked harshly, his voice soft but bitter. "Where have you been? I needed your help—I—"

Gabriel took hold of both his arms, holding him steady. "Cas, calm down. I couldn't have helped you even if I wanted to."

Cas' eyes widened. "Are you… Did you lose…?"

"No. I almost did when I tricked Lucifer. Now that was a doozy. I used it all up and it's been slow coming back. I barely have more power than you right now." The angel's smile was forced and he abruptly let go of Castiel's arms. "I've been in France, Paris mostly, though I took a trip to Germany a few months back."

"Why are you here now?"

"I felt everyone fall," Gabriel told him quietly. The silence of night filled the space between them and he could also feel the regret rolling off of Cas in waves. "Look, Cas, I know what happened. I know it was Metatron. I've got a few people on the inside, you could say, and I know that you would never have done this, whatever any other angels say."

"Thank you, brother," Castiel said with soft sincerity. He shoved his hands into his pockets in a very Dean-like move, but even Gabriel could feel the chill in the air.

"I'm here to help, if I can."

"I don't—"

"I know you don't want me to. But you can't do much right now, and I'm your best bet. If there's anything, Castiel, just—"

Gabriel stopped, his voice cutting off into a choking noise that ripped from his chest. A light began pouring from his torso, bright and all-encompassing. It blinded Castiel, and he flung up an arm to cover his face as his brother screamed an unearthly wail of pain. The sound and the light faded quickly and Cas looked down to see his own body, the body of Jimmy Novak, lying there, black wings burned onto the ground behind it.

A cry fell from Cas' lips, and he fell to his knees, hands shaking as they rested on the body. A pair of feet made an appearance on the other side of him and Castiel raised his face to see Metatron. The scribe's mouth twisted in a mocking, pitying fashion and he wiped his blade clean with a handful of black feathers.

"Such a shame, Castiel. Not one of our brothers and sisters will come back from your hands even when you're dead. You don't even know how many you killed. And Gabriel? He's dead because of you, too. A shame indeed…" he trailed off with a smile in Cas' direction.

There was a laugh that filled the air suddenly, Gabriel's laugh, one that Castiel knew well. He looked back at the body and it was his fallen brother once more, mouth not moving, eyes wide and milky with death though that eerie laugh echoed around them.

"No!" Cas screamed, falling back and trying to crawl away.

Metatron grinned at him.

. . . . .

Cas woke with a startled gasp of air. His skin was clammy and he wiped cold sweat from his brow. He calmed his breath enough to hear the tinny sounds from the little TV just outside the storeroom. Flopping back onto his sleeping bag, Cas filled his lungs with air permeated by the scent of old coffee and various snacks. His breath turned to a sigh and he wondered vaguely if his nightmares would ever cease.


End file.
